


Irving's Constant

by BelleWrites (sunleyemrys)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24662743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunleyemrys/pseuds/BelleWrites
Summary: Intro to the Constance Surana story.





	Irving's Constant

Irving had just dressed for bed, the thick tome in his hands holding his place when the gentle knock occurred. Barely heard over the crackle from the fireplace. He paused, almost reaching for his staff but stopping, it might just be a maid bringing fresh linens.

The knock happened again, louder this time. More urgent. Not a maid he decided, setting the book down, fingers turning the doorknob. “Yes?” His eyes met a small elven woman, hooded, the light hitting her tattoos curving across her cheeks. 

“Are you the mage?” She was barely more than a girl, her voice accented. Not one of the Dalish tribes from Ferelden. 

He nodded, stepping back from the doorway to allow her to enter, his gaze shifting from the young woman to the diminutive figure at her heels. “You must be chilled, some tea?” Irving felt concern, it was late and obviously the woman didn’t want to be seen. 

“No, thank you.” She stood, hands resting on the child in front of her. “I have, what is the word, a magic child.” She pulled the covering off the child and a pair of large amethyst eyes looked up at him, unblinking, curious, and not in the least bit afraid of him. 

Irving knelt in front of the child, “She is too young for magic to show.” He held her chin gently, studying the eyes. Eyes that should have belonged to a mage much older and with a great deal of power. “Are you seeking to trick me? What this suggests is not possible.”

“So my Keeper said, before ordering her death.” Her fingers tightened on the child’s shoulders. “She became frightened in the woods and when the hunters found her, she, I do not know how to describe it. They stopped.”

“Stopped?” He focused on the child, letting his magic touch the girl, gently, feeling the shimmering energy contained in the small body. “My, you are something. Has she always had eyes like this?”

The woman shook her head slowly, “No sir, they were green before. We have too much magic in our clan, and she is too young to be properly trained.”

“No one is too young,” Irving stroked the girl’s hair affectionately. “What is her name?”

“She does not have one sir. She was simply my daughter.” The elf’s voice wavered, unshed tears affecting her speech. 

He nodded, standing, “Very well, I shall take her with me to the Circle. She will be taught and kept safe. That is my promise to you.” 

“Thank you,” the tears fell finally as she reached into a pocket, pulling out a bit of cloth and passing it to Irving. “For you sir.” Three gold coins tumbled into his palm. “For her.”

He shook his head, pushing the coins back. “I’ll not take your money. You do not need to buy my promises. She will be safe.”

The coins fell to the floor with a dull ring as she backed away, ripping the door open and fleeing into the night. Irving and the girl looked at the swinging door for a few moments before she scooped up the coins, setting them gently on the table, her fingers brushing the forgotten book. 

“Do you like to read?” He asked, picking up the tome and motioning her towards the large bed. She shook her head, silently blinking at him. “Well, how would you like to hear a story then?” That earned him a nod and soft smile as she clamored onto the bed. 

He opened the book, clearing his voice, “Several months after the Divine’s death, rumors circulated that the Divine was actually a man. Can you believe it little one? Eventually tales of this reach Sister Constance’s ears, and when asked, she replied very matter of fact. ‘The Divine was not a man, do not be silly. Obviously Clemence was a squirrel, and she dashed out of the window rather than be discovered!”

The girl giggled, edging closer to Irving. “Constance is a nice name; would you like to be called that? I think you would enjoy her sense of humor.” 

“Constant?” Her voice was soft, with a gentle lisp typical for a very young child. 

“Constance,” he corrected with a smile. “It means steadfast, which is what I will be for you. Always there for you. How is that?”

She nodded, patting the pages, “Another story?”

“Always, little one, always.”


End file.
